they go by so fast anymore, and I keep wondering what it is they lead me to. My death, or something great, that books could be written about, actors portray? A lonely existance of responsibility and strife, or are there a few carefree days left ahead for me to spend with someone who could truely appreciate them with me. I guess we all wonder these things and let our hearts ache a little at not knowing for sure it won't be the dreaded options.
I think, though, at the end of the day we let ourselves believe that there is always hope for a happy ending, no matter how far away or how impossible it may seem. Without that little bit of dillusion we would never sleep. Some of us have a hard time believing the dillusion, and for those few sleep doesn't come so easily. We let our hearts torment over things that we have no control over. It's a vicious cycle that gives us our inspiration for whatever art it is we weave. For some it comes in bursts and leaves just a quickly as it came. For others it's more organized and complete. I wonder what that difference means.
If we embrace our heartache, no matter how short lived it might be, we have the chance to make something beautiful out of it. It makes me think of God, don't ask why, but I think some days that Lucifer just broke His heart so, by falling out of love with Him, that his heartache gave Him the inspiration for His most beautiful creation ever.
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